by Kara Lennox
He managed to keep up his end of the conversation, talking about his future renovation plans for the second outbuilding. He’d been thinking about turning it into a workshop, where guests could try their hand at candle-and soap-making or canning—some type of participatory museum to reflect what times were like when the Creole cabin had been built.
“So do you think you’ll keep working here?” Melanie asked innocently. “After the probation’s up, I mean.”
Luc shrugged. “I’ll work here as long as Grand-mère wants me to. But I think she may have some plans of her own regarding the B and B.”
Celeste nearly choked on her coffee. “What makes you say that?”
He gave her a knowing look. “Just a feeling.”
LATER, WHEN MELANIE had gone home and the guests were all in their rooms, Luc couldn’t help but ponder his future. Celeste had neither confirmed nor denied any plans for herself or the B and B, but Luc could see the writing on the wall. Celeste had been building her nest ever since she arrived.
Luc would only be in the way here.
But he would stay in Indigo. He felt at home here. If Loretta disapproved—if the whole town found out about his past and wanted to tar and feather him and ride him out of town—he would simply have to prove to them that he was a changed man.
LORETTA WAS AT her wit’s end with her daughter. She’d tried love and tenderness and coddling, to no avail. She’d tried tough love. She’d tried a sensible, talking-things-out approach. Zara was like a stone wall.
Zara’s teacher had called. Apparently there were numerous witnesses to the fight at the school, and the consensus was that Thomas had deliberately provoked Zara, getting right in her face and taunting her until she’d lashed out. Then he’d thrown her to the ground and punched her—retribution for the previous fight.
But even when Loretta had told Zara she wasn’t in trouble—well, not too much—Zara hadn’t responded with anything but monosyllables, and she’d only picked at her dinner.
Something more than the fight was bothering her, but she claimed she was fine.
Loretta had thought she would have at least a few more years of peace before getting hit with attitude.
The next morning, when Zara still wasn’t back to her usual cheerful self, Loretta was ready to tear out her hair. Given that she hadn’t been sleeping well herself, she wasn’t at her most patient. She set Zara’s cereal in front of her and said, “Zara, I’m tired of this. If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, how can I fix it?”
“You can’t fix it. You won’t fix it.”
“Fix what?”
“I want to be friends with Luc again.”
There was no way around it. She was going to have to tell Zara the truth. Once her daughter realized Luc was not the saint she believed him to be, she would understand.
“I found out that Luc is a criminal.”
Zara’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You mean like a bank robber or something?”
“Or something.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, I don’t know exactly.”
“Then how do you know it was bad?”
“Because he’s on probation. That means he’s serving a punishment for a serious crime.”
“Maybe it wasn’t his fault or something.” Zara was grasping at straws. “Maybe someone made him do it. Maybe it was a mistake.”
Loretta put her head in her hands. She was making everything worse.
“Couldn’t you just ask him what he did?” Zara said. The suggestion sounded remarkably sensible.
“If I find out what crime he committed, and we agree it was bad, will you accept my decision that we should stay away from him?”
Zara didn’t answer for a long time, and when she finally did, she said, “He didn’t do anything that bad. I know he didn’t. He’s not like Jim.”
“Honey, you don’t even remember Jim. He could be sweet and thoughtful and charming, just like Luc. Just because a man is handsome and kind and charming on the outside doesn’t mean you know what’s on the inside.”
“I know.”
And it hadn’t escaped Loretta’s attention that Zara hadn’t agreed to steer clear of Luc if they found out that the crime he’d committed was of a serious nature.
“Hurry up and eat. We need to get going.” She was already running late with her deliveries, although now that she didn’t linger at La Petite Maison over Luc’s delicious coffee, her morning rounds didn’t take as long.
She’d just have to learn how to make her own damn coffee.
LATER THAT MORNING, when she’d returned from her deliveries, Loretta made a phone call she was dreading. But it had to be done.
“Hotel Marchand, how may I direct your call?”
“Could I speak with Melanie Marchand, please? This is Loretta Castille.”
A couple of minutes later, Melanie came on the line. “Hi, Loretta. What’s up?” She sounded warm and friendly, though surely by now she’d been brought up to date on the idiotic soap opera that was Loretta’s love life.
“I need to ask you something. Could you please tell me what Luc did to get a criminal conviction?”
Melanie paused a long time before answering. “Why don’t you ask Luc?”
“Because I want the truth.”
“He would tell you the truth, Loretta. I’m sure of that.”
“Well, I’m not sure, and I have my reasons.”
“It’s not my place to tell you,” Melanie said firmly. “But you should know this. I believe with all my heart that Luc regrets his actions.”
“All criminals are sorry—when they get caught.” She thought again of Jim, of the first time he’d been arrested for stealing a car. He’d stood up in court and claimed he’d learned his lessons. He had a baby on the way, he was worried about how he was going to take care of it. There hadn’t been a dry eye in the courtroom.
He’d gotten a slap on the wrist, and two months later he’d stolen another car.
“Talk to Luc,” Melanie said. “Find out what he has to say. Then you can judge him all you want.”
“I’ll think about it,” Loretta replied, although she knew she wouldn’t. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.”
She knew she was being harsh. But she also knew what a pushover she was, how vulnerable she was to Luc’s charms. What if he convinced her that whatever he’d done was a terrible mistake, that he was now completely reformed? She would get back together with him, and then he would do something awful and she would never, ever be able to forgive herself.
She’d taken Jim back twice, believing he was sincere, until he’d held up a convenience store and shot the clerk.
If not for Zara, she wasn’t sure how she would have survived that period of her life. She wouldn’t put herself through it again.
AT THREE-TWENTY, Loretta got a call from Della Roy, the school bus driver. “Loretta, I just wanted to let you know that Zara didn’t get on the bus today.”
“What? Oh, shoot, not again.” This wasn’t the first time Zara had missed the bus. It wasn’t her day for Girl Explorers, but maybe she’d gotten involved in a game after school. “Thanks, Della, I’ll have to go track her down, I guess.” She hated to close the bakery when she had a steady stream of customers coming in, but she couldn’t let her child run wild over the countryside with no supervision.
It didn’t occur to her to be worried.
But when she arrived at the school, no one there had seen Zara or had any idea where she might be. Mrs. Brainard, who was still in her classroom straightening up, said there’d been no trouble from Zara that day, though she’d been more quiet than usual.
“Maybe she went home with a friend,” Loretta said as a small bubble of anxiety floated up from her subconscious. “Sometimes she forgets to ask permission.” Or maybe she got permission and Loretta had completely forgotten about it, like the day Zara had ridden her bike to the B and B, ostensibly to catch crawfish. She racked her brain, but couldn’t reme
mber arranging any play dates for today.
Then a thought occurred to her. Could she have gone to the B and B to see Luc? Knowing Zara, she would ask him point-blank to give her an accounting of his criminal record. But La Petite Maison was too far to walk easily from school. She might have gotten a ride from someone, though.
The more she thought about it, the more likely that scenario was, although if the mother of one of Zara’s friends had given her a lift, surely the woman would have made Zara phone home to tell Loretta. She would have to drive over to Luc’s and check.
She got in her car and drove to the other side of town, her stomach in knots. She wouldn’t panic about Zara. Her daughter had missed the bus before and there was always a reasonable explanation, at least to Zara’s way of thinking.
When she pulled into the drive, she saw that Luc’s Tahoe was in the carport. She walked to the front door and rang the bell. Slipping in the kitchen door seemed too casual under the circumstances.
Celeste answered, her face neutral. “Loretta. What brings you here?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, but Zara is missing, and I wondered if she’d by chance come here after school.”
“Missing?” Celeste’s face immediately softened into an expression of concern. “Mon Dieu, no, I haven’t seen her. Luc is down by the dock working on the boat, if you’d like to ask him.”
“Yes, I’ll do that.” Maybe Zara had seen Luc and wandered down to talk to him. Loretta walked briskly along the brick path toward the bayou. She would quickly check for Zara and then leave immediately.
She saw the boat before she saw Luc. The faded canopy was gone, replaced with a bright new one sporting blue and white stripes. Now that it was clean and freshly painted, the boat was quite beautiful. She found it hard to believe this was the same filthy vessel he’d started with.
Then she saw Luc, and her breath caught in her throat. He was behind the boat, wearing a pair of waders and up to his knees in swamp muck as he worked to scrape the Bitchin’ Mama decal off the stern. Although it wasn’t particularly warm today, he’d taken off his shirt. His muscles flexed as he wielded the scraper, and his hair gleamed gold in the afternoon sun.
“Luc?”
He turned, startled. “Loretta.” He didn’t smile a greeting, but why would he? After she’d repeatedly hung up on him and erased his messages without listening to them, he didn’t even owe her common courtesy.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Zara?”
“No. But you might ask Celeste—”
“I already did.”
“Is she missing?”
“She wasn’t on the bus, but it’s no big deal. She probably went off with a friend and forgot to tell me.” She tried not to sound terribly concerned, but the anxiety in her voice betrayed her.
He laid down his tools and came out of the water to stand on the muddy bank. “It must be a big deal, or you wouldn’t have come this close to me.”
He had her there. “Zara and I argued last night—about you. She’s just a little girl, she doesn’t understand. I thought she might have come here looking for better answers than the ones I’ve been giving her.”
“I haven’t seen her. But I’ll help you look for her.”
“That’s not necessary,” Loretta said quickly, but he was already peeling off the waders. “I’m sure she’ll turn up soon.”
“In which case I’ll be very relieved and feel silly for worrying. But I’m going to look for her, anyway.”
He obviously wasn’t concerned whether she wanted him to search or not. She had to admire the way he’d dropped everything to help. It had nothing to do with trying to get back in her good graces, either. He was worried.
He shoved his arms into the sleeves of his denim workshirt as he walked. “Have you called her friends?”
“Not yet. I’ll go back home and see if she’s there. If not, I’ll get out the school directory and start calling.”
“I’ll drive around town, then. If she’s playing outside somewhere, I’ll spot her. What was she wearing?”
Loretta had to think for a moment. “Blue jeans. Red-and-blue striped sweater. White sneakers. Try the park, and the general store. Oh, and the diner. Call me on my cell if you find her.”
“You’ll do likewise?”
“Yes. I’ll let you know.”
Luc stepped inside the house to tell Celeste what he was doing. By the time Loretta got her station wagon started, he was already striding toward his car, keys in hand, a very determined look on his face.
God help her, but she was happy to have him on her side. Only a man of character would drop everything to look for an AWOL nine-year-old. But men of character didn’t go out and get themselves arrested for felonies. It just didn’t make sense.
LUC PICTURED the map of Indigo in his head and worked his way methodically along the streets, looking for a flash of red. He stopped at the park and asked a group of older kids playing soccer if they’d seen her, but no one had. He checked the general store to see if she’d stopped in to buy candy or soda, but again, no one had seen her. Nor had she dropped into the Blue Moon Diner for a piece of pie.
He kept looking, hoping his phone would ring and Loretta would let him know that Zara was home safe and sound, that he’d panicked for nothing. But the phone remained frighteningly silent.
The town of Indigo was pretty small, so Luc covered all the streets in a very short time. He ventured farther out, onto the back roads. All the while, terrible images played in his head—accidents, kidnappings, drownings.
As it was getting dark, he headed back to town. His intention was to stop by the bakery and find out what else he could do to help.
But as he neared the center of town, he saw the flashing blue-and-red lights of a squad car—Alain’s car—and his heart almost stopped beating altogether. This wasn’t good.
He pulled in behind the squad car and got out. Alain and a couple of other men were searching around the opera house with flashlights.
“Alain,” Luc called.
Indigo’s police chief turned to him. “Luc. You haven’t seen Zara Castille, have you?”
Luc’s heart sank. “No. Why are you focusing here?”
“Take a look.” He shone his flashlight against the side wall of the opera house. Someone had grafittied the native stone with red paint, and the perpetrator hadn’t gone out of her way to conceal her identity, either. The wall now boldly advertised, ZARA CASTILLE WAS HERE.
“Oh, Zara,” he murmured. Talk about taking a bid for attention to the extreme. To Alain he said, “I’ve got a flashlight in my car. I’ll help you look.”
Since the other men were focusing their search around the opera house, Luc walked across the expansive green lawn, which was dotted with shrubs and stone benches, behind the building. The others had shied away from searching near the bayou—perhaps unconsciously fearing what they might find. But Luc knew Zara wouldn’t get close enough to risk drowning.
She was around here somewhere, hiding, watching the chaos she’d caused. He’d bet his life on it.
“Zara!” He shined his flashlight into the cypress trees that looked spookier than usual as darkness fell. His beam of light played in and out of the Spanish moss.
“Luc!”
Luc nearly jumped out of his skin. His name, a whisper on the wind, had come from the shrub he’d just passed.
He whirled around. “Zara?”
“I’m here.”
And so she was, concealed almost perfectly. She no longer wore red-and-blue stripes, but a camouflage sweatshirt. Her bright hair was bundled under a brown knit hat.
Luc’s first feeling was one of intense relief, followed quickly by a surge of anger. He wanted to reach down and yank the little delinquent out from that bush, throw her over his shoulder and turn her over to Alain. But she looked scared, so he curbed his temper. “What are you doing hiding there?”
“Don’t be mad, Luc. I did it for you.”
That was j
ust what he needed to hear. In addition to despising him, Loretta would probably have him arrested for contributing to the delinquency of a minor. “Come out from that bush.”
“I have a plan. Don’t spoil it.”
“You have exactly five seconds to get out from those bushes or I’m coming in after you. One, two, three—”
“Oh, all right. But don’t you even want to hear my plan?” The dense shrub trembled and rustled and finally parted until Zara emerged. She’d painted brown splotches on her face and the backs of her hand. Pretty damn clever way to hide.
He grabbed her hand and started for the opera house, walking a little too fast, practically dragging the child. “Do you have any idea how worried everyone is? Your mother must be frantic by now.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“I did earlier, and she was plenty worried then.” Luc waved his flashlight to get Alain’s attention. “I found her!”
Alain rushed up to her, then practically fell to his knees to visually inspect her. “Zara, are you all right?” He brushed at her cheek with his finger. “What have you got all over you?”
“Camel-flage.”
“Where’ve you been? Everyone was so worried.” He enveloped the girl in a bear hug. Alain and Zara were close, since he’d been teaching her how to play the fiddle. But Zara still looked a little dumbfounded by the display of emotion.
“I’ve just been…around. But Mr. Luc found me. Doesn’t that make him a hero or something?”
“Can’t thank you enough, Luc,” Alain said. “How did you know where to look?”
“Er, I didn’t. She kind of found me.” Zara’s plan, at least part of it, was gradually becoming apparent to Luc. She was hoping her mother would be so grateful to Luc for finding her missing daughter that she would stop being mad at him.
Nice thought, but it probably wasn’t going to work.
“Zara,” Alain said after he’d rounded up the other searchers and let them know the child was safe, “did you paint the wall of the opera house?”